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by twinewool (colouredwool)



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: F/F, Gen, The Coyote of the Painted Plains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 03:44:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11706135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colouredwool/pseuds/twinewool
Summary: 10 years on, and Billy returns to see his family.





	Back Home

It’s nearly noon by the time the ranch house comes into sight. The sun isn’t as scalding as it sometimes gets out on the plains, but Billy is already sweating, tired from his journey. His borrowed horse plods along, even-tempered despite being wrangled off the path into scrubland more than once.

No doubt they can see him from the house by now, a lone, uninvited man riding onto their land. And sure enough, it’s not long before a familiar face comes riding out. Chance cuts a striking figure as always, dark hair flying in the wind, hat pulled low, and Moonshine’s coat gleaming in the sunlight.

He takes his hat off and waves a hello from afar. There’s a short pause before he hears a bark of laughter, and Moonshine gathers speed.

As horse and rider approach, Chance tips her hat to him and gives an exaggerated bow.

“Why, Mr. William Brown! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Billy laughs and tips his hat in return. “Chance! It’s good to see you.”

“It’s damn good to see you too, Billy.” Chance grins. “It’s been too long. Two years now?”

“I’ve been working at Frimston’s for one an’ a half, so about that.”

“Well. It feels a mite longer than that.” Chance’s smile softens. She looks Billy up and down.

Suddenly he feels self-conscious, acutely aware of his almost-new coat and boots, his freshly shorn hair, and the beginning of a patchy beard that’s finally started to grow in. When Chance looks back at him he sees pride in her eyes, and suddenly his heart feels light and those nerves fizzle away.

“Work been good t’you?”

He nods. ”I got myself time off this week, enough to catch a train here to Crossroads. Thought I’d stop by since I can’t make Christmas like most folks. Brought a few things for the young’ins, and a couple o’ bags of supplies if you need ‘em.”

“Why that’s mighty kind o’ you, Billy – y’do treat us right.”

Chance nods to the house and starts to turn Moonshine round. “Come on, let’s get you some food.  You came by just the right time, and I’m sure you can guess what we’re havin’.”

Billy throws back his head and groans. “Beans?”

“’fraid so!”

He laughs, and quickly spurs his horse on to match Moonshine.

It’s not long until they make it to the front yard and Billy waves as all the kids outside come running to greet him. He dismounts and finds himself bombarded with hugs from all sides. Lily, Joseph, Buck, Sam – he hugs each in turn, ruffling hair and being appropriately impressed by how tall everyone has grown. There are faces at the window and a couple of the older children lean out, demanding presents and making faces. Little Hannah grabs his hat whilst he’s distracted and he makes a merry chase around the yard trying to get it back from her, dodging chickens and laughing all the way.

“My goodness, what’s all this commotion?” a voice calls out and Billy turns to see Mary Anne step out on the porch. She looks rushed off her feet as always, hands on hips and back school-mistress straight as she squints in the noon sun.

“Billy!” she cries, smile lighting up her face. She rushes up to him and immediately pulls him into her arms. He leans down to kiss her cheek, and he can’t help grinning ear to ear as she pushes him back to look at him. “Oh, what a lovely surprise! Look at you! My, you’re taller than you were last time I saw you, I swear. And look at these whiskers! They finally grew in after all.”

Things don’t quiet down for a while, but Chance and Mary Anne eventually wrangle everyone in for lunch. The biggest room of the house is lined with ramshackle tables and benches all pressed together, and Nat stands at the head filling bowls from the massive kitchen pot. Billy tucks in with everyone else, feeling right at home among the clamor and the mismatched cutlery and plates and cups. There was a time he remembered when they’d sat on the floor, no furniture to speak of, and Chance would scrape out the pan as best she could to make sure everyone got their fair share. It’s good to see things so lively, even when it’s only beans in the pot.

When lunch is over the older children get assigned afternoon chores, whilst the youngest have lessons. He’s special guest for the day, it seems, and he spends a good hour or two answering a flood of questions, and telling stories about the towns he’s visited further north to a rapturous audience.

By the time the youngest are sent off to play and the oldest are called back in for school, he’s worn out from all the talking and Mary Anne takes over. Between the math and the letter-writing he teaches some of the kids a few coin and card tricks he’s picked up, much to Mary Anne’s disapproval. He wins back her smiles by taking the classroom guitar and teaching some harmony songs he’s learnt. They don’t come by new music often in the house, isolated as they are, and Mary Anne is always eager to add to their repertoire. He leaves out the dirtier drinking tunes though.

Supper comes round soon enough, and Billy finds himself taken aside by Chance as they gather up the dishes. Luce and Buck stand at the kitchen door where their names are listed on the chalkboard, but Chance waves them away.

“It’s yer lucky day you two. Billy’s gonna do your chores tonight,” she says. Billy laughs as their eyes light up and they yell a quick thanks to him as they run off to join the others.

Chance clucks her tongue and shakes her head. “No shame. Least I raised one of you to be hardworkin’.” She grins at him, and throws a bucket over so he can fetch water for cleaning.

The bustle of the kids can still be heard, but it’s quiet here in the kitchen. Chance gets talking about the others that have gone off into town and further afield to find work, and homes, and husbands and wives. Billy gets letters sometimes and he relays any news he has.

“I saw Sandy over in Crossroads yesterday - got herself a job at the hotel out by East Springs. Said she wished she could come say hello, but, you know. Not always a quick trip to get here, even if she had the means and time.”

“No need for visits, though I’m mighty fond of them. I’m just glad to hear she’s doin’ alright.”

There’s an absence in their stories back and forth, certain names that remain unspoken. Even if Chance has always wanted to save as many kids as she can from the rough life (and early death) of farm work or worse, illness still comes to the house. Then there are those that simply can’t get the help they need. In a house full of orphans in the middle of a desert there’s only so much attention and care that can go around.

“Y’ever see Abby again?” Billy asks cautiously.

Chance stiffens. At first it seems like he won’t get an answer which…well that would be answer enough. But after a few more plates are dipped, scrubbed, and rinsed, the words come out.

“Just the once,” Chance says. Her back is turned away, hands wringing out the cloth tighter than necessary. “It was about a year ago. She was in a bad way, Billy. Bad enough that she came back with nothin’ but the clothes on her back. And ain’t no convincing from me or Mary Anne got her to stay with us more than a couple o’ nights. Couldn’t tell proper-like, but looked like she had a babe comin’. Mary Anne thought the same.”

Billy feels a deep pang in his chest. A pain that he knows Chance must be feeling triple-fold right now.

“Shit.” Billy carefully sets a plate down. “Thought she’d…thought she’d ditch that son-of-a-bitch and come back one day. Guess sometimes folk get dug too deep into the wrong thing.”

“Yeah,” Chance says, quiet-like.

Billy’s seen Chance get fired up over injustice in the wildest fit of rage, or silent as death she’s been so cold angry. But now, staring out the window…Chance just looks tired. Burnt out from years of trying, and failing.

He hesitates to ask. “Has…anyone else gone since?”

Chance heaves a sigh, coming back to herself. “A small miracle, but no. No run-aways since Abby.”

Billy nods.

They move onto easier topics as they finish clearing away the pots, and spend a quiet half hour sitting on the porch sharing a rolled cigarette between them.

There’s a game of chase going on in the yard, loud and raucous, and they watch as the little ones run in circles, climb the fences, and dive under shrubs to get away from one another. Shrill yelps that bubble into laughter, tears over skinned knees that dissolve with a few quick kisses, and no end of stomping feet and slapping hands as the next person gets tagged.

Chance yells for Kit to get out the chicken coop at one point, but otherwise she sits in silence and watches with a small smile at kids being kids, noisy and carefree.

 

+++

 

Billy finds Mary Anne later in the kitchen, patching a pair of trousers in front of the fire.

A few dresses and shirts are folded neatly over stools, halfway through repairs with little sewing kits stacked on top. He remembers learning to sew round the fire himself when he was young, pricking his fingers on the needle and carefully threading his buttons back on with an unpracticed hand. He can proudly darn and patch his own clothes now, and all the more coin in his pocket for it.

Mary Anne looks up at him as he walks in and smiles.

“Everyone off to bed now? I heard Chance raisin’ a racket outside.”

“Yeah, youngin’s are in. Tobias is tellin’ a story to keep ‘em rounded up.”

Mary Anne nods and keeps her eyes on her work, though she prattles on as she does. Asking him how he’s keeping back at Frimston’s, what the work’s like, if he’s made friends, if the food’s good, whether he has a sweetheart, has he kept up with his letter writing? Keepin’ his bills in check? Billy answers dutifully, not quite hiding his smile at the sudden storm of questions, and earns a playful swat on the arm for his cheek.

She runs out of steam eventually, and they settle into a comfortable silence as the fire continues to burn.

In the crackling light he’s suddenly struck by how young Mary Anne looks. She's not much older than thirty, if that. Certainly not old enough to be his mother by birth, though she’s his mother in spirit. She’d always seemed ageless to him, a force to be reckoned with since the day she arrived.

“D’you remember that first night you came to the house?” he asks.

Mary Anne smiles fondly. “Why yes, I remember a certain somebody sneaking into my room. Wailin’ ‘bout scary stories he was.”

“I never could stand those ghost tales the others told.”

“You know, Chance was so mad at me. Told me, ‘He’s ten years old that’s-”

“-near full grown!” Billy finishes, laughing. “I remember that.”

Mary Anne chuckles too. Then her smile fades. “Though I wish I could say the next couple of days were good memories for you. You got tangled up in that horrible, awful mess with that no-good bounty hunter and I just can’t stand to think about it sometimes.”

“Chance was there. I knew I was safe, even if it was scary at the time.”

“You were a brave boy.” She reaches out and squeezes his hand. “That was an awful day, and I’m so glad you didn’t get snatched away.”

He squeezes back and she smiles gently, hands fluttering back to her sewing.

Billy thinks, in the silence, of a story he heard in town last night. About someone else getting snatched away.

“You know, Mary Anne. I always wondered how you ended up at the house back then. Seemed like you appeared right out o’ nowhere.”

“Why, Chance brought me along to give you all lessons. You know that,” Mary Anne says, but her voice is stiff. Her eyes suddenly locked on her sewing.

Billy feels his heart sink. He’d hoped what he’d heard wasn’t true, but he has to ask.

“I…I heard something a little different,” he says warily. “A story from someone back in Crossroads the other day.”

“Oh?”

“Name of Beau something-or-other –” Mary Anne startles “– he had a story ‘bout the time he came across Joe Nix ten years ago. Don’t think he quite twigged I was the kid he let get used as a bargaining chip in a gun fight, so I knew his story already. But the beginning…well, there were some new details I never heard before.”

The sewing lies forgotten in Mary Anne’s lap. “Billy, this is…” Her hands flutter. “What did he say to you?”

“Said he was travelling by train on his way to Crossroads. A new job as Sheriff waiting for him and his wife-to-be by his side. Then about an hour out a bandit came and stopped the train – held a hostage at gunpoint and robbed every passenger blind. Mighty fine description of that bandit he had, but that wasn't what came as a surprise. ‘Cos then he said that there was some tussle over a kid, a right scare it was, and his fiancé stood up, marched over to that bandit, and by the time pleas had been made a shot had been fired, a gun put to her back, and that bandit had forced her off the train along with all those other stolen goods.”

Billy breathes in, and though his voice had been low in case of young, prying ears, the sharpness of it rings out. He breathes out again, watching Mary Anne sit frozen in her chair.

“Did Chance kidnap you all those years ago, Mary Anne?” he asks quietly. “Cos I'm not sure I like that story.”

“Billy…” Mary Anne takes a breath and steadies herself. “Billy, I won’t lie to you. Chance did take me off that train.” Her hands fidget across her skirts, clenching nervously. “And I protested loudly – I’m sure you can’t imagine otherwise. Hollering and yelling I was all that way across the plain. But once she explained – about the house, you children, why she dragged a school teacher all the way out to the middle of nowhere – she gave me a choice.”

Her hands clasp together in her lap, and she lets out a sigh.

“Maybe I was easy to convince, especially after that horrible Nix fellow came and Beau failed in every possible way. But those first few weeks I could tell it was playing on Chance’s mind. ‘You can go,’ she said. ‘Hell it’d be nice if you visited sometimes, I could find a way to bring y’across regular, but you can go.’ Telling me, ‘it’d only be sensible for a lady like you.’ And even though I told her straight-away to say no such thing, I did think about it once. Beau might not have been the man I wanted to marry, but there were other ways to live.”

She looks up, and reaches out, and he lets her take his hand.

“But Billy? I don’t want you thinking Chance did a thing like that lightly. She was desperate by then, struggling something bad tryin’ to pull things together here on her lonesome. And suddenly there was an opportunity she’d likely never get again, and I don’t begrudge her a thing. Chance brought me to this house, to you, and all the others, and that more than makes up for a bad beginning like that.”

Mary Anne’s hands squeeze around his, and the look in her eyes assures him that her head and heart has been settled for years.

Billy squeezes back. “I know. I just…I heard what that man was saying and I couldn’t let it go without asking you. Without clearin’ things up.”

Mary Anne smiles at him, and it’s a little trembly around the edges. It’s so very unlike her that Billy finds himself standing up and pulling her into a hug.

“Did you ask Chance about this too?” Mary Anne asks, voice muffled in his shoulder.

“Naw. Don’t worry.”

“Okay…that’s. That’s good. Don't you go worryin’ her about somethin' so silly.”

 

+++

 

There’s a quiet fall of footsteps as Chance walks in, and Billy wakes from his doze.

“I think it’s yer bedtime, sleepy-head.” He feels Chance ruffle his hair and he blinks open his eyes with a yawn.

Billy watches sleepily as Chance walks over to Mary Anne standing by the fireplace, putting out the last of the dying embers and lighting two little stubby candles to see by.

Chance leans over and kisses her, sweet and soft, as she tucks a few flyaway hairs behind Mary Anne’s ear. Mary Anne gives her a tender look, and the warm, low light makes a pretty picture of them both.

Chance takes one of the candles and turns back to Billy. “Get yerself to bed. Reckon you had a long day today, and you got a long one ahead o’ you tomorrow.”

He yawns again and heaves himself out the chair, taking the glowing candle as he mumbles a soft goodnight.

Billy wanders down the hall to his old dorm where a cot has been made up for him. The floorboards creak under his feet in the same places they always have, and he hears the faint snores and the murmur of kids up past their bedtime as he passes by.

This house was once a simple refuge, a roof over his head and one warm meal a day from a strange woman who shared his complexion, and spoke soft about the world whilst a gun hung at her belt. He’s watched Chance build this place up with walls and doors, with new family and love, until it became a home.

Tomorrow he’ll get on his borrowed horse and head back across the plains to his new life. But right here and now, his heart’s where it wants to be.

 

 


End file.
